


What It Feels Like for a Girl

by wreathed



Series: Best of Wives [2]
Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Crossdressing, F/M, Feminization, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6562714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreathed/pseuds/wreathed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliza honors Alexander. Alexander obeys Eliza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What It Feels Like for a Girl

Eliza is whatever Alexander wants her to be. Dutiful politician’s wife, wealthy benefacting wife, thrifty poor man’s wife. Mother to their children, mother to _him_ on occasion, for Alexander has not had a mother of his own in a very long time. Confidant when he wants for one, entirely apart from him when he wishes to be left to his work.

Tonight, it so happens, this is what he requires. Again, she is here for him. Honor and obey she always must, but her love for him is not borne out of duty; it is something fixed in the very core of her. In any case, their desires often happen to align.

They sit together in their bedroom, just the two of them, a side table brought in along with two wooden chairs. Two cups of tea drunk almost to emptiness, a teapot and the associated accoutrements are laid out on the table. Eliza is wearing a elegant, full-skirted dress of pale blue silk.

So is Alexander.

Alexander is also wearing finely woven white stockings, and a white petticoat, and stays, and one of the few pairs of silk undergarments Eliza owns. He had also shown interest in Eliza’s shoes, but there were none that fitted, so they both remain barefooted. Eliza had helped Alexander into everything, as he was understandably unfamiliar with how to dress himself in this way, and he had become so excited during the process that at one point she had to step away from him and give him a moment to collect himself and calm down.

“Are you sure about this?” he had said, his dark eyes meeting her steady gaze.

“As for the structural integrity of the garments,” she had told him patiently. “We are almost of a height, and approximately of a weight and build whenever I am not with child, and in any case these stays will loosen on me until I am seven months gone. As to all other reasons not to do this, _yes_ , I am very sure about this. I think you will make a very pretty girl, Alexander.”

He had given out a little moan at this statement, and it had been thrilling. She had leaned forward from where she was behind him, lacing him up, to drop a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Thank you for taking tea with me, Alexander,” Eliza says to him now, smiling as he squirms a little in his chair against the silk that he will feel, delicate and smooth, across the whole of his body. His hair is loose, and it sits thick and dark on his shoulders, framing his collarbone – on flagrant display due to the neckline of the gown. “Your tips for household sewing have been most enlightening.”

“You are welcome, my dear,” he responds archly, and Eliza, for a moment, struggles not to laugh. “Tell me, does my appearance please you?”

“It _does_ please me,” she replies, feeling _sly_. “And I know it pleases you. I could show you off at any party and I am sure you would find a good husband.”

“Don’t tease, Eliza,” Alexander says, pitifully reproachfully.

She tilts her chin up, as if to appraise him for sale. “Posture, manners, style of dress: all excellent. There is only one aspect in which you are not the perfect lady,” Eliza says to Alexander’s. She stands up, knocking the table with the tea on ever so slightly as she does so, although nothing spills, and walks over to him, then drops to her haunches.

“What would that be?” Alexander says. “I tried as much as I could to affect an air of grace.”

In imitation of how Eliza herself had been sitting, Alexander’s legs had been tightly pressed together, but Eliza opens them with one firm push of her hands and looks up to Alexander between them, to see that he is now worrying his pink bottom lip between his teeth, color rising in his cheeks. Eliza traces one hand very slowly all the way up his leg, along the seam of a stocking and up under the skirts, before reaching his undergarments and curling her small hand around the silk, his cock underneath it. It is already hard, straining; Alexander cries out as she touches him. She can feel his wetness even through the fabric. 

“We cannot receive any callers with you in this state, Alexander,” she says gently, looking up at him, eyebrows raised. His mouth falls open in overwhelmed soundlessness as she strokes him through the silk again. “Can you be a good girl and comport yourself?”

“ _Eliza_ ,” Alexander responds, sounding choked-off. “If you truly wish that you will have to stop– that.” His stockinged feet skid across the floor and he gives out a soft, gasping sound as she squeezes his cock, making it twitch, the sight of which sends a throb out from between her own legs, then she watches his thighs shake as she lifts his skirts up to his waist, falls forward from her haunches to her knees and takes him in her mouth, tasting the silk and Alexander both at once. She hears him moan above her, and lets him stretch her mouth until the undergarments are entirely soaked through. A hot tension builds from the base of her belly as he fills her mouth, as she watches him come undone.

Only when he bucks up into her mouth and voices a desperate _please_ does she withdraw her attentions.

“Do you need me to fetch Laurens?” she asks Alexander sternly.

“Oh, _no_ ,” he says, making his eyes as wide as they will go, to mean _yes please_. “Have I been as bad as all that?”

“You are incorrigible, Alexander,” Eliza says. “As well you know.”

She stands up and goes to the other side of the room, disappearing behind their painted privacy screen to where her dressing table stands. When she returns from undressing herself and going to the bottom drawer of the dresser and picking up the pot of oil and the contraption they have named, jokingly in part, after their good friend, she sees that Alexander has – without being asked to – moved himself to the bed. He lies face down on his knees and forearms, backside up and legs spread, with his skirts hiked up to his waist; his stockings are still on at least, but his undergarments have been pulled off and left on the floor.

“Quite a sight,” she says from behind him, making him jump, then making him wriggle his backside a little in order to attempt to attract her attention. “But not ladylike at all.” She steps forward so that she is right behind him, and runs a palm over one of his buttocks, making him groan into the mattress. “You can stay like that for a while, I think.”

He groans again at that, but Eliza ignores him. She places what she is holding on the nightstand, making sure Alexander hears the _clunk_ of Laurens’s contraption, then sits at the head of the bed, her own legs apart and bent at the knees, so that Alexander’s mouth can go straight to where she desires its attention. She does not even have to direct him in so many words, although she does take in the sweep of his eyes down her now-bared breasts before his eyeline dips respectively and attentively low again.

Pleasure is sparking bright within her even before Alexander’s tongue begins its work, and it is not so many minutes of his soft mouth against her soaked sex before she reaches her peak with a soft shout, her toes clenching in thin air as pleasure hits and then gently recedes. Afterwards, she hears and feels Alexander’s short, sharp breaths against her.

Once she has taken a moment to recollect herself, Eliza turns so that her legs dangle off the side of the bed, then pushes herself up to standing.

“ _Please_ ”, Alexander says into the mattress, still perfectly in position. He lifts his head up slightly then and turns to her, his mouth and chin covered in her wetness. “Please, Eliza. Take me. Fuck me.” His cock has not turned any less interested during the interlude, but Eliza was pleased to see that he had not tried to rub himself off against the bed, nor had he taken a hand to himself, at least that she had noticed. That deserved to be rewarded.

She picked up the oil and the harness from the nightstand, letting Alexander see her do so, and he gives a kind of happy, relieved sigh upon seeing what she is about to do. He returns to the position of facing down, his forehead resting against the mattress. She kneels behind him and puts the harness on with relative ease, at least in comparison to the first time they had done this.

Eliza has learned, by now, how to coat a single finger in oil and press into Alexander, slowly but not too slowly, then to add a second and keep going, until he is pleading with her to take him like a woman, like a bad, dirty girl. She cannot quite bring herself to call him those exact words, but he says them for her.

With her free hand, she goes to the gap between the gown’s skirt and bodice to try and loosen his stays, but stops when Alexander asks her to. His voice cracks. “I– I like it,” he admits. “The way it holds me in when I breathe,” and she rewards his honesty with a third finger and allowing him (with the prompt of a flat palm on the small of his back) to rock backwards and forwards on where she stretches him out.

Then Alexander starts pleading again, babbling, and she swiftly quiets him by granting his wish, taking out her fingers and making the ivory cock slick and filling him to her hilt in one movement. From him, there is a gasp, then silence, for a moment. She pulls out then fills Alexander again, taking in the swing of his cock as she pushes back into him, the sounds the silk of the dress makes on every thrust.

Alexander Hamilton, reduced from speeches to speechlessness, is beneath her, fists tight against the bedclothes, and she takes him hard.

“You are so good for this,” she tells him in her gentlest voice, against a backdrop of whatever low, throaty sounds happen to fall from his open mouth. “My girl.”

He begins to dip back to meet her thrusts, and she speeds up her movements until Alexander’s moans reach their crescendo and, upon seeing him thrusting into empty air, his cock full and tight, she reaches down with her slick hand and tightly pulls him off until he comes with a long, breathy groan, his release covering the skirt where it falls in front of him.

Slowly and carefully, Eliza slides out of him, leans down to kiss him briefly but deeply on the mouth, then efficiently removes him from his clothes.

“The gown is ruined,” Alexander says, once they are under the bedclothes and Eliza is drifting to sleep in his arms.

“Perhaps it can be kept back just for this,” she suggests. “Otherwise I fear you will do me out of good clothes.”

“Keep it in the bottom drawer of the dresser?”

Eliza laughs. “Yes. With what is already kept there and with any other depraved objects you bring home.”

“I think you are becoming almost as depraved as me,” Alexander replies sleepily, and squeezes her tightly as he closes his eyes.


End file.
